Story of a Girl
by amoenavi
Summary: Ten things Casey McDonald can't stop doing that don't involve Derek Venturi at all. Really.
1. Ten Things

**Story of a Girl**

or Ten Things (Casey Can't Stop Doing)

by: amoenavi

A/N: Random and probably not the _best_ intro to the fandom but, hi. -waves- I'm amoenavi.

-x-x-

1. Casey usually forgets to take the earbuds out or unplug them from the laptop when she stands up to get the door so she's yanked back (headfirst) into the chair and/or desk and/or bed with a surprising amount of force (Derek thinks it's hilarious and sometimes knocks just so he can see her do it)

2. She falls asleep in strange positions like half-sitting/half-sprawled across the backseat of The Prince or with her lower body facing right and her upper facing left; sometimes it's so bad that when she wakes up in the morning she's bent over for half an hour (Derek takes advantage and puts her favorite cereal on the top shelf, far out of the reach of "Quasimodo")

3. She's terrified of thunderstorms and spiders and snakes and the dark and she knows it's girlish and cliche and _she's sixteen, dammit_, yet she can't get over her fear (Derek puts fake snakes and spiders in her underwear drawer sometimes but she's less angry about the snakes and spiders and more angry about the _Derek saw her underwear_ thing)

4. Sometimes, she sits at home on Friday nights while Derek is out doing whatever (whomever, _shut up!_) and wonders why she isn't out there with him (not _with_ him with him, just with him)

5. She's scared of ordering things at restaurants because she thinks the waitress will judge her based on her food choice (she usually orders something very complicated with dishes added and taken off... it's why she tries to get Derek as her waiter most of the time... really, it is)

6. She's fallen asleep at her laptop, headphones around her neck, working on a paper that's due in three weeks while listening to the Backstreet Boys _only_, to awaken to a note Derek left on her computer saying he deleted her paper (he didn't) on more than one occasion

7. She will hire a very highly recommended planner and then fire her two days before because she's not _exactly_ like Jennifer Lopez in that movie and plan her own wedding (to Derek)

8. The endings of old Disney movies still make her cry even though she's seen them more times than she can count (she tries to hold it in when Derek's around because he laughs at her)

9. She doesn't have the completely "natural" ability to raise one eyebrow scornfully, she worked on it tirelessly in the weeks before moving in with the Venturis (she's glad she did; she uses it often in arguments with Derek)

10. Even though she doesn't do it consciously, whenever Derek calls her fat or ugly, she stands in front of her mirror for an hour, trying to figure out a way to make herself more perfect

-x-x-


	2. Five

**Story of a Girl**

or Ten Things (Casey Can't Stop Doing)

by: amoenavi

A/N: Clearly I'm doing these in a random order with no method really. Um, go me!

-x-x-

Five: She's scared of ordering things at restaurants because she thinks the waitress will judge her based on her food choice (she usually orders something very complicated with dishes added and taken off... it's why she tries to get Derek as her waiter most of the time... really, it is)

-x-x-

"Psst, Derek!"

He turned around slowly, balancing table five's vegetarian nachos on top of table two's check and table one's ice cream, to glare at the source of the noise. _"What?"_ he hissed back.

The brunette sitting alone at table three, which was also his – the _table_ not the _girl,_ jeez –, waved him over frantically.

"I'd like to order now," she said quietly, blue eyes scanning the restaurant for the other waiters.

"You're kidding." He looked down at himself, the pile of food in his right hand and the drink tray in his left, then at Sally, over in the corner talking to one of the male customers, empty handed. "Just get Sally, I'm kinda busy."

A gloved (…gloved, seriously?) hand grasped his arm and yanked him back into the booth. He did a quick check: nachos in place, check not ruined, ice cream not melted, root beer, Coke, lemonade still in (separate) cups. No wonder he was manager; _dude,_ he _rocked_ at this job.

"But this is your section," she insisted, frowning at him. "You need to be responsible and serve the customer in _your_ section." She brandished the menu in his face, trying to stack it on top of the drinks. "I'm ordering."

Derek avoided the menu, gaping at Casey. "What is your _problem_, Head Case? Do you not understand human speak anymore?"

"It's not that long of an order, it won't be any problem if you just–"

"No."

"But Sally looks busy and I don't really want to disturb her and you're already _here_ so–"

"No."

"But–"

He whistled loudly and Casey covered her ears, angrily glaring at the back of his head. "Sally!"

The blonde looked up, startled. "Yeah, Der?"

Nodding to the crazy girl behind him, he said, "Order," and went off to finally deliver the food in his arms.

00

"Ma'am, I'm sorry 'your food is too cold' but, uh, it's ice cream. It just… it comes like that. Like, normally."

"Derek?" Sally cleared her throat, tapping her high-heeled foot impatiently on the tiled floor, leaving him to decide which the lesser evil was: an irritated Sally or a stupid customer.

Resigned, Derek tilted his head toward his ex-girlfriend. "Did you get Casey's order?"

"There was no one there, Der." He ground his teeth together in silent frustration. Derek. His name was _Derek._ Not Der. Not Ek. Derek.

Wait– "What?"

She motioned for him to follow her across the restaurant. "Look, I know you're upset because we broke up–"

"You think I'm tricking you because we– I broke up with– Are you crazy?"

She held up a silencing hand. "Passive aggressiveness is _not_ the answer, Derek," she responded, (fake!) concerned.

The irony of the situation did _not_ pass Derek by. "Me? Passive aggressive? Casey, back me u–" he gestured to the spot where she had been seated and froze when he saw that table was empty. "What?"

"See? It's empty."

"_What?"_ he repeated, searching the booth for the step-sister he had just snapped at. "Where'd she go? She was– she was _here_, Sally, I swear!"

"I'm just going to go… get that man's order. Over there." Sally backed away, arms crossed over her chest and notebook in hand.

"Sally!" He rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted. "Damn it."

"She gone?" He jumped at the sound of Casey's voice coming from underneath the table.

"Jesus– Casey?" he yelped as she tugged on his pant leg. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

"I only order from you," she stated calmly, crawling out from underneath the table. "Sally just… well, I– I like to avoid her."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm getting that."

Her head popped up, doing a cursory scan of the restaurant, and she struggled to get back in her seat without attracting any attention, using her hands for support against the table.

Derek watched this entire scene unfold feeling as though he should be shocked by the turn of events and yet not quite mustering the strength. Casey was just… _Casey. _He'd stopped trying to figure out what was wrong with her a long time ago.

He sighed. "What're you having?"

"The usual: Two grilled cheese, one with tomato, one without, tomato soup, but only Campbell's because the other ones are too tomato-ey and not thick enough, oh! And make sure it comes with a large plate because I'm going to pour it on the grilled cheese, lemonade with a fresh lemon in it and two lumps of sugar, and…" she scanned the menu momentarily, "Right! A Caesar salad with blue cheese dressing. Not Caesar dressing, _blue cheese. _So it's a special order."

"Whatever, freak," he muttered, turning and walking toward the kitchen muttering something about crazy high maintenance stepsisters.

He knew she would stop him before he felt her insistent tap on his shoulder. "You didn't write any of it down. How are you supposed to remember if you didn't write any of it down?"

"I'll remember."

"But, you _can't_–"

"Two grilled cheese, tomato, no tomato, Campbell's' soup, plate the size of your brain," he winked at her. "fresh squeezed lemonade, two sugars, and a JC salad with blue cheese dressing." Derek grinned. "Did I get it all?"

"Um, well, um, yeah." She sat back down slowly, brow furrowed. "But how did you…?"

He shrugged. "You get it every time, Case. Chill." He flashed her an arrogant smile and sauntered into the back room where he promptly collapsed against the kitchen wall because um, hold up; _since when had he started remembering her weird order?_

-x-x-


	3. Two

**Story of a Girl**

or Ten Things (Casey Can't Stop Doing)

by: amoenavi

A/N: Update? From me? It's kind of weird and not what I planned but, hey – what can you do? Derek's cell phone ring is "You Know My Name" © Chris Cornell.

[Also: _slightly_ edited because I don't want to kill Casey via carbon monoxide poisoning. Thanks to LizwinLove and PINKIELEPHANT on LJ for catching that!]

-x-x-

Two: She falls asleep in strange positions like half-sitting/half-sprawled across the backseat of The Prince or with her lower body facing right and her upper facing left; sometimes it's so bad that when she wakes up in the morning she's bent over for half an hour (Derek takes advantage and puts her favorite cereal on the top shelf, far out of the reach of "Quasimodo").

-x-x-

_"Arm yourself because no one else here will save you – !" __  
_  
An arm reached out from under the covers, he slapped his bedside table until he found the phone. "Ven–ree," he mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

"Derek? Where's my car?" Oh, great, Casey. He rolled over in his bed and checked the time. Casey calling at 12:56 am on a school night?

"Wha?"

"My car. The one I had – awyee," she yawned. "A' the schoo'." She yawned again. "Fo' rehea'sal."

He yawned after her. "The one I drove home?"

"What? De-_rek!_ I can't believe you –" her voice faded out. "Wha'evah. Jus' come pih' me u'."

"Crazy, it's almost one –"

Dial tone. Fuck, he was going to have to go get her.

00

The Prince just barely made it there on the little gas it had (it wasn't irresponsibility – it was frugality.)

Casey, in full French Whore makeup, climbed into the backseat of the car. "About time! It's really cold out there, you ass." She kicked his seat, throwing her rehearsal bag in the passenger seat.

He growled and tried not to turn around and strangle her.

She settled in, burrowing deep into the seat. "You ca' hav' the cah Frida'," she announced sleepily. "Alex McF'l'n ish takuh me ouh."

Derek's hands tightened on the wheel. "Oh, great. That guy's an ass."

She was quiet for a long time and then he heard the snoring.

When they got back to the house, he turned on the car lights really bright and kicked her bag out into the street to spite her before opening the rear door roughly because it squeaked. "Okay, get out." Silence. "Casey."

There was no response: she was splayed over the seats, double buckled and using the window as a support, mouth wide open and hair falling out of its sleek-with-hairspray bun. She looked so… so utterly uncomfortable that it was disconcerting. It seemed like her head was at the strangest angle and her legs her bent in opposite directions. She was so weird.

"Casey." And a heavy sleeper. Fan-fucking-tastic. "Oh, come on. Get up!" He reached in to shake her awake when he saw what she was using for a pillow.

Her hands were curled around Derek's hockey jersey, lying underneath her head and there was a slight smile on her face. It caused his chest to constrict in a weird way – like a heartburn way, not anything warm and fuzzy, _God _–and he just stopped.

He turned the car on, pulled it into the garage, and turned the heat in the garage to full. He didn't leave her stuff in the street and he didn't close the garage door. He did, however, hang one of his old Halloween masks from the mirror to freak her out.

00

Derek heard the bones cracking in her back before she even hit the stairs.

"Mornin', Spacey." He leapt down from the stool, landing on the floor with a thud. "Sleep well?"

She shuffled into the kitchen, dark circles under bloodshot eyes and a hand to the small of her back, grimacing at his cheer. "Oh, go to hell."

"Casey," Nora warned, not looking up from her newspaper.

"He _started _it," she muttered angrily, lowering herself carefully into the wooden stool. "I don't understand why he gets away with everything when _I'm _the one who – uh – wait–" she frowned at her mother's dress and heels. "Where are you going?"

"What? I'm not going anywhere." Nora chuckled nervously. "Why? Can't I dress like this to do housework? Am I not entitled to look nice every now and then? _Gosh_, Casey." She stood and huffed, walking out of the room and slamming the door to the basement. She'd been like that a lot lately. It was scary.

He winced and turned toward Casey, wide-eyed. "I think Nora's caught some of your crazy."

She frowned. "Hey! That's… ah, who cares." She waved her hand dismissively, lowering her head onto the counter. "I'm _exhausted_."

He munched his cereal, watching the steady up and down motion of her breathing (not because it calmed him or anything it's… what else was there to look at?). "It might help if you slept like a human," he advised solemnly.

Her head shot up. "I sleep just fine, thank you. It's just… that _mattress is so uncomfortable_."

"Oh, you mean the one we bought you because you complained about the other one?" He swallowed. "_That _uncomfortable mattress?"

"It was too hard," she grumbled, struggling out of the chair. "And this one's too soft. It's like I'm being sucked into a marshmallow."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. A vortex. I'm being sucked into a vortex." One hand on the counter to steady herself, she travelled around the island to stand directly in front of Derek. "You sleep fine. You snore and it causes a 10 on the Richter scale."

"No…" he smirked at her and _whoa, she was standing really close to him._ "I think that's _you_." He walked around the island to sit in the chair she had just vacated. "Probably why the boys stay away."

"Shut up."

"Hey, why are you awake now? That hot date with Alex not go so well?" She got home at approximately 10:23 pm last night (not that he cared). There was no goodnight kiss (not that he watched because, um, that would be weird).

_"Shut. Up."_

"What, Quasimodo can't get a date to semi?" Casey had been striking out with the men ever since she broke up with Max. Apparently that (_orangecardboardsonofabitch_) thing actually did have some power over the student body. "You loser," he said almost – but not really – affectionately.

"At least I'm not an ass."

"No, but you sure do have one." Damn it. That was not supposed to come out like that.

Her blue eyes widened infinitesimally while he played it off as if he meant to say it (clutched hockey jersey). "I mean, that thing's **huge**." It wasn't huge.

"De-_rek!_" she screeched, seemingly relieved. "You're such a jerk!"

He shrugged, not denying that fact. "I am what I am." Her stomach growled loudly and he snickered as she covered it with her arms, embarrassed. "Was that an earthquake?"

"Ugh, shut up." She waddled over, slowly and painfully, to the cabinet which ordinarily held the cereal only to find that it was bare. She sighed and spoke without turning around. "Where'd you put my Natural! Crunch fruit cereal?"

Derek put the spoon to his lip in mock contemplation. "Hmm, top shelf… maybe on the left? You'll probably have to check every cabinet."

He expected her to throw a hissy fit about him being a jackass and _De-rek, why are you out to ruin my life?! _and _blahblahblah _like she did every time he hid her cereal. Instead, she sighed again and began to shuffle toward the sink, stopping every couple of feet to wince and crack her back.

"Just…" She was leaning against the counter, (hunched) back to him. "A general vicinity would be great. It's– it's not been a good weekend."

Her hair was pulled into two low pigtails, falling over her shoulders and exposing her back so he could see every breath she took, could monitor it as her breathing got faster and shallower as she was on the edge of tears. Oh, crap.

"Here, here!" He shot out of his seat, jumped up onto the stool and pulled out the neon orange box that held her cereal. "Eat it, Hunchback!"

Casey stared at him in shock for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I – I can't believe – you actually – you _loser_," she managed between bouts of laughing. "You – the crying? You're a softie."

"And _you're _a manipulative keener!" he accused, pointing a finger at her.

His step-sister shrugged, not denying the fact.

She also didn't thank him, but she _did _hum contentedly as she got her bowl and spoon and dug in.

-x-x-


	4. One

**Story of a Girl**

or Ten Things (Casey Can't Stop Doing)

by: amoenavi

A/N: NOT DEAD YET, I SWEAR. I was having issues with the end of senior year and getting into college and all that fun stuff. This is short, I'm sorry, but I AM ALIVE. In a sense.

-x-x-

One: Casey usually forgets to take the earbuds out or unplug them from the laptop when she stands up to get the door so she's yanked back (headfirst) into the chair and/or desk and/or bed with a surprising amount of force (Derek thinks it's hilarious and sometimes knocks just so he can see her do it).

-x-x-

There was something about reading a book that made Casey want to write.

Derek didn't understand it; when he watched a kickass hockey game, did _he_ want to go play hockey? No. After hearing an awesome song, did _he_ want to strum some chords? Hell to the no.

Casey however, after reading one of the _Twilight_ books (no, he didn't know which one), was so moved by this strange compulsion, she rushed up to her room to write the Great Canadian Novel. Which, judging from her poems, was not quite within her reach. Like, at all. ("Whenever we're together, we're two halves that make a whole"? _Please._)

Still, he was bored and she never ceased to be entertaining; he followed her silently up the stairs and stood outside her door, looking in on the scene. She sat on her wheely chair Indian style, iPod earbuds in, typing furiously while hunched over the keyboard, fingers flying over the keys faster than he would have expected given her usual ineptitude for all things technological (she still had a Walkman), pounding out words and deleting them just as fast. After about ten minutes straight of tapping, she paused, scanning the room quickly for intruders before turning back to the screen.

"I had never met anyone like him before," she read aloud to herself, "He was both the epitome of everything I hated and everything I had ever wanted."

Huh. That sounded… surprisingly normal for a literary reaction to _Twilight_. He was actually kind of impressed by the –

She continued, "Even if he was a supernatural being with a penchant for killing innocent human girls, I knew I would belong, emotionally and physically, to Edmund forever."

– there we go.

Derek snorted derisively from his position on the doorframe.

She frowned, apparently not hearing him. "That isn't quite right…" she said, words punctuated by the tap of her BACKSPACE key. She contemplated how to make it better, biting her lip. "Maybe if I added something about the color of his eyes?" Pause. "And something about his body…"

She nodded, satisfied with this solution, and the tapping began again.

This time, he knocked on her opened door before laughing.

She shot out of her chair in the direction of the door so quickly that Derek would have been impressed… had she not still been attached to the laptop. Her neck snapped back as the computer moved closer to the edge of the desk.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," came the whimper from the floor.

Although he winced, he stayed put by the door. This was not the first, and definitely not the last, time that she would forget physics.

"What can I say? Klutzes in motion stay in motion." She whimpered again. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you need a hand?"

He took her answering kick as a yes.

00

For her seventeenth birthday, he got her a large squishy body pillow.

He didn't give it to her, oh _God _no, he just bought it, ripped the tags off it, and threw it onto the floor in back of her computer. He didn't notice that she hid it in the back of her closet underneath her favorite abandoned sweatpants.

And he definitely didn't notice that whenever she used her computer, she put the pillow back in that same spot on her floor, just in case.

-x-x-


End file.
